Slushies
by thebonron
Summary: Dean and Sam are bored one day, so they decide to go get slushies. Problem is, John is back before they are. How will he react to his sons leaving the motel when they were supposed to stay in? Weechester.


Ten year-old Dean Winchester was sitting on the motel bed, playing with his shoelaces. He had already watched two reruns of "Saved by the Bell" and one episode of "Power Rangers". He had also read two of his comic books and washed the breakfast dishes. He was b-o-r-e-d.

Sam was sitting on the motel bed opposite Dean's. He too had nothing to do.

"Dean?" he turned towards his brother.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna play "Memory" with me?"

"No way! That's a baby game!"

"Is not!" Sammy's lower lip protruded indignantly. "You're just saying that cause you always lose!"

"I do not!"

"Well, will you play "Clue" with me then?"

"I have a better idea..." Dean smiled. "Let's go down to the corner store and get slushies."

"But Daddy said we weren't supposed to leave the room," Sammy looked at his older brother. John had left the boys alone for the day while he took care of a hunt in Southern Michigan, leaving his sons under strict orders not to leave the room until he came back. They didn't know the area that well and he didn't want them getting lost or, worse, getting attacked by something supernatural.

"Dad's not going to be back for another two hours," Dean said. "We'll be back long before then."

"I don't know..." Sam mused. He did want a slushie, but he also knew that John would get really mad if they disobeyed a direct order of his.

"Sam, don't be such a baby. Dad'll never know," Dean said.

"Well, okay," Sammy finally agreed. "But we head back as soon as we get our slushies."

"Sure. Let's go, Sam."

With that, Sam and Dean left to go to the corner store a few blocks from their house. They went quickly, so as not to waste any time, just in case John's hunt finished early or something. They got their slushies with the change Dean managed to scrounge up in his pockets and headed back home. It was as they were passing the school playground that Sammy realized something.

"Wait, Dean, we can't go home with slushies. What if Dad sees them when he takes out the trash?"

"Hm, good point," Dean agreed. "Well, let's go sit on the bench next to the playground, okay? We'll finish the slushies and then head home."

"OK, Dean," Sam replied.

So that's what they did. Except that after they were done, a kid from Dean's school, Michael Robbins, saw Dean and invited both him and Sam to play tag. Dean couldn't say no and before they knew it, it was an hour and a half later.

"Ok, guys, I have to go home. It's six o'clock.," Mike told them.

"What do you mean, it's six o'clock?" Dean asked. "It can't be."

"It is," Mike said, pointing at his watch. "Look."

"Shit, Sammy," Dean gulped. "Dad's probably home already."

"Dad told you not to say that word," Sammy observed.

"Who cares? He's going to kill us either way!" Dean shrieked. "Let's go!"

The boys ran as fast as they could, panting and gasping for breath the whole way there. They got home in about ten minutes and stopped outside the door of their room. The Impala was standing in one of hte parking spots. They were officially screwed.

Dean fumbled in one of his pockets and took out a key. They entered quietly, bracing themselves for John's reaction. Well, they didn't have to wait much longer. As soon as they came into the room, John stood up from where he was sitting at the wooden desk.

"Thank God," he said. "Where the hell have you been?"

"We, uh, uh..." Dean stammered.

"Answer me!" John roared. "I was about to call the police for you two!"

"We went outside to get slushies, Dad. And on the way back we ran into a friend, so we kind of lost track of time..." Dean mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Daddy," Sammy said, looking down at his sneakers.

But John wasn't convinced. "You went OUTSIDE? You boys disobeyed a direct order. I told you to stay inside the house at all times."

The boys just stood there, not knowing what to say.

John went on. "Samuel, I am disappointed in you. Dean, sneaking out? Taking your little brother with you? I don't even know where to begin."

"Daddy, it's not all Dean's fault, I-," Sammy tried to explain, but was interrupted halfway through.

"Samuel, I suggest you stop talking. Now."

Sammy gulped and Dean nudged him, indicating that their dad meant business.

"Dean, you disobeyed me and you put your brother's life in danger. Do you not understand how selfish that is?"

"No, I'm sorry, I..."

"When I tell you to do something, there is a good reason for it!" John yelled, scaring Dean.

"I'm sorry," Dean repeated himself, feebly. Sammy pulled up closer to him, scared.

"Is that all you can say? Well, it's not good enough!"

"I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to? That's not good enough! Damn it, Dean, I can't even look at you. Get out of my sight before I do something I regret!"

"Daddy," Dean said, which was rare for him. He had stopped calling John _daddy _a few years ago. "I wasn't... I knew where we were going."

"Dean, shut up!" John snapped. "You are a stupid, useless, piece of shit! Your mother would be so disappointed in you!"

Dean stared at his dad, shocked. This was unlike anything John had ever done before. Sure, he had yelled at him a lot and even smacked him a couple of times, but he had never been so flat-out mean to him. Dean felt the tears coming to his eyes.

John regretted it as soon as he said it. "Son, wait..." he said, a little more gently. But Dean couldn't take it anymore. He ran out of the room and into the parking lot.

"Dean!" John called out. "Dean!"

"Dean's gone, Dad," Sam said quietly. "He ran off cause you yelled at him."

"I know, Sammy," John said, glad that Sammy was still little and couldn't fully understand what had just happened. "I know."

"You hurt him."

"I know. And I'm sorry. But, Sammy, I need you to stay in the room while I go looking for Dean. Can you do that for me?"

Sam nodded.

"I'm serious, Sam. No sneaking out this time."

"I will, Dad," Sam said. "Go find Dean."

John sighed, feeling very guilty. He ran out of the motel room and looked around. Dean wasn't anywhere in sight. John stopped for a second, wondering where Dean could have went. And then it hit him. The playground. Where else would Dean go? John jumped into his truck and drove towards the school.

When he got there, John saw Dean, sitting under a tree. _Thank God_, John thought. _Thank God._ He came up to Dean, crouched down at his level and put an arm around him.

"Hey, son. What did I tell you about leaving the house without telling me?"

Dean didn't say anything, just kept on crying. He wasn't flat-out bawling, of course, but the tears did come silently streaming down his cheeks.

"I'm serious, Dean," John said. "Today I had the two most scariest moments of my life."

"I'm... sorry, sir," Dean sniffled. "I just thought, you know, that since Sammy was home..."

"Dean, Dean," John said, rubbing the back of his son's head. "Did you think that I was only worried about Sammy?"

"Well, you said that I put Sammy's life in danger..."

"You did. But you also put _your _life in danger, Dean. And that's something that scared me, a lot."

"I'm sorry..."

"I know, son," John said, hugging Dean. "I'm sorry too. The only reason I said these things to you was because I was so scared with worry about all the things that could have happened to you. I'm so sorry, Dean."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"For yelling at you," John said. It broke his heart to think that his little boy considered what he said to him today okay. "For making it seem like I don't care. And, worst of all, for telling you that your mother would be disappointed in you."

"She... wouldn't be?"

"No, son," John said, wrapping Dean up in a hug. "She would be so, so proud of you. It's me she'd be disappointed in."

"Proud of me for what?"

"For being a great big brother to Sammy. For listening to your old man, _most of the time. _For never complaining about the life I spring on you boys."

Dean sniffled again. "I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't be crying."

"It's okay. It's okay," John said, kissing the top of Dean's head. "You have every right to cry. But I need you to look at me. What I did today is not okay. It was mean and stupid and I feel awful for doing it. I'm going to need you to forgive me for it, though. Think you can do that, son?"

Dean nodded his head vigorously. "I'm not mad, Daddy. I just thought... you were."

"I was," John admitted. "But I'm not anymore. Come here, son," John gave Dean another hug, something so out of habit for him that Dean almost turned away at the physical touch. "I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy," Dean said, wrapping his arms around John's neck. John was amazed at Dean's ability to forgive him so easily, to just let it go and move on. He wondered how someone so young could already be a better man than he would ever be.

"Now, let's get you home, Dean," John said, picking his eldest up and carrying him towards the car. "I don't want to leave Sammy alone for too long."

"Okay, Dad. And I won't ever leave the house like that again."

"That's good. If you ever want a slushie, just ask okay? I have no problem letting you go as long as I know where you are."

"OK," Dean nodded. "Will do."

"That's my boy," John smiled. "Dean, I just want you to know one thing. I will always be very proud of you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're the best son anyone could ever ask for."

Dean smiled quietly and tightened his grip around his father's neck. John carried him to the Impala and placed him in the backseat, carefully. By the time they got home Dean had fallen asleep. As John was carrying him back to the motel room, he kissed his hair one more time. "I'm sorry, son," he said. "I'm sorry.


End file.
